His attention and awareness are so attuned to Monty's mood and physicality that he notices immediately the way their careful positioning slips, the quiver of movement, and he stops short of the the next strike. There is a frown on his face, but it is conspiratorial, a shared joke between the two of them in light of the current situation.

"Are you still with me, little one?" He murmurs, his tone outwardly curious and vaguely displeased, but his eyes avid and intent. "You've made five mistakes already, so that's at least twenty five more strikes."